


For this time only.

by fuwaesthetic



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Gold & Silver & Crystal | Pokemon Gold Silver Crystal Versions
Genre: M/M, euuughhh, shameless shameless shameless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-16 03:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1330009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuwaesthetic/pseuds/fuwaesthetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two-shot. 6:02:17:36.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It's been six days, two hours, seventeen minutes, and thirty-six seconds since the last time they spoke. Ethan stares at the time on his 'gear and adds another minute to his count.

"You can't keep avoiding him," Lyra sighs. She's splayed across the floor beside him; they'd been playing Twister, but it's only so fun with just two people. It was so much funner with Silver around.

A lot was, actually.

"I'm not avoiding anyone," Ethan replies more to get his mind off of their missing friend than to actually instigate another round of _you're avoiding him the way I avoid foods that work my allergies up_. Lyra groans and he sighs, switching to laying on his stomach. His 'gear lights up with the time when he presses one of the buttons on the side.

Six days, two hours, and twenty minutes, he thinks.

"Silver just told me never to talk to him or look at him or hang out with him ever again." The words are as hard to say as they are to stomach. His middle aches as if something's slammed into it. Just like the time he'd fallen through the Burned Tower's floorboards and crash-landed in front of Johto's beasts. Or when he'd beaten Lance and stepped into the cold, quiet room behind the hall and placed his Pokéballs in the recorder.

Or when he'd found out that Silver was the son of Giovanni.

"I'm just," he tries to find the words, or at least the ones that won't make his voice crack the last three times he'd said it, "respecting his wishes?"

"More like you're both being stupid." Lyra sits up, her hands in fists on her thighs, and pouts at him. It used to be cute, and it usually is, but seeing it just makes frown. "You _know_ he doesn't mean it when he says it. That's just how he is."

It's true. Silver likes acting big and bad, but there's rarely any bite to go with his bark. He says he'd never be friends with you, but then he's dipping his fries in your strawberry milkshake. Ethan kicks his feet in the air, one after the other, and clicks a button to make the screen light up again. Twenty-five minutes.

"If he wanted to talk, he'd text me. Or call me. Or something."

Lyra gives him a look that very distinctively denies this, and Ethan knows she's right -- again. Silver doesn't reply to texts and he doesn't send them; he rarely picks up calls or thinks of calling anyone, too. It's always Ethan and Lyra who initiate the talks, the meetings, the hang outs.

He groans and buries his face into the arm of the couch. The Pokégear slips out of his hand and clatters on the floor, but he can't bring himself to care or to pick it up. It can just lay there, he thinks. It can just lay there and stop making him think about how long it's been since he'd spoken to Silver.

"It'd be nice if we could all hang out together." Lyra's words smooth over the beginnings of a headache the way her hands smooth over his back. She works the knots out of his shoulders, gentle and warm. Back-rubs have always been his secret pleasure, and Ethan relaxes as tension pushes its way out of his body. "Maybe get some burgers. I could even call him up and invite him, if you don't want to try doing it yourself."

"Sure," he sighs. It's a hopeless cause, but Lyra never gives in. If there's one person who could convince Silver to go anywhere, it'd be her. She'd convinced him plenty of times to do things he hadn't wanted to, like step outside of New Bark Town's borders or take on Team Rocket in their headquarters.

He'd been scared to do anything of it, but calling her -- hearing her voice, telling him he'd be an idiot not to do what he thought was right -- it'd help calm him down and clear his mind.

"I'll take care of it all."

-

Silver and Lyra are already there when he arrives, squeezing rain out of his jacket. To his credit, Silver only freezes momentarily in scooping Lyra's smoothie out of its cup with his fry, but he doesn't look at Ethan when he sits down. He watches the storm outside instead.

"Fearow and I couldn't see anything." Ethan reaches for one of Silver's fries and doesn't even get an annoyed look -- it makes him wish they'd been struck by lightning or something flying over. Anything'd be better than having one of his best friends hate him. "Sorry for being late."

Lyra waves it off, too busy sucking on her straw to answer. Ethan leans back in his seat and chances a look at Silver. The redhead still isn't looking at him - the rain is apparently more interesting than how soaking wet he is right now - and his hands are folded on the table. He doesn't get how Silver can be the most expressive of their group and still be completely unreadable.

"Your fries are gonna get cold," he tries. Silver's mouth twitches like he wants to reply, and the reddish-amber eyes slip in his direction for a fraction of a second, but nothing else. Ethan feels Lyra press a sneaker against his leg and he clears his throat. "If you're not gonna eat them --" Silver glances at him, brow furrowed, and Ethan feels his words catch in his throat. No. Not good -- "Can I -- can I have them instead?"

Silver stares at him for what feels like a very long time, but drags his fries closer to his chest and picks one out of the tray. He chews on it slowly, gaze turning back to the window, and Ethan tries not to let his entire air supply out of his lungs in one go. According to the time on his 'gear, it's only been a minute, but his heart's hammering on his chest as if he'd been running non-stop for an hour.

Lyra excuses herself, citing a bathroom break. Silver gives her a panicked look when she leaves, but it disappears so quickly Ethan's sure it's just his imagination. He works on drying off his clothes with napkins as Silver works through the remainder of his fries and Lyra's smoothie. He's still not dry enough to not feel as if the diner's not twenty degrees colder than what it actually is by the time he runs out though, and taking his jacket off only helps a little bit.

"Sorry," he mumbles. Silver's fingers stop their drum solo on the table, a hint that he's listening (although, honestly, when doesn't he?) and Ethan takes his hat off to shake the water from it beneath the table. Choosing words instead of just letting his mouth run off doesn't come naturally to him, so by the time he knows what he wants to say Silver's started drumming on the table again.

"Sorry for saying what I did," he finally gets out. Silver glances at him but doesn't reply, and Ethan feels a balloon inflating in his chest. His carefully formed sentences fall quicker than the drops outside as he tries to get them out, trying to ease the pressure building in him. "I mean, I meant it! I really did! And it took me a while to figure it out because I'm an idiot and I'm sorry and I was just-- scared, you know, because you're my rival and my best friend and I want those to keep being things you are, but I wouldn't mind if we were something more, either, but I know you don't really like that and that --"

The diner is quiet; it's like everyone's paused their conversations just to hear their Champion wax poetic about his feelings. Silver is a shade of red that clashes terribly with his eyes and his hair, and he's not looking at him at all. He's not looking anywhere in particular, actually; his eyes are darting around quietly, and Ethan forces the lump in his throat to go down. The pressure hasn't eased despite his ramble and it hurts almost as much as Silver's refusal to look at him.

Slowly, the conversations around them begin again, and Lyra peeks out from the bathroom. Her eyebrows are together and there's a frown on her face, but it's not angry; she's worried, probably having heard at least _half_ of that conversation, and Ethan lays his head down on the table without replying to her questioning glance.

"We can talk about this later," he says, even though his voice is muffled by his arms and by the plastic table. The cute shapes patterned in front of his eyes blend together after a few moments and he blinks to make them stop.

When he lifts his head to ask Silver if he even heard him, he's alone at the table and Lyra's making her way over with a disappointed draw of her lips.

-

"We can forget I ever said it," he groans as soon as he hears the voicemail's automatic message end. "We can pretend I never, ever said any of it. I just..." he lets his voice trail off, counting seconds on his wall clock.

"I just want to be friends again."


	2. Chapter 2

“What are you even scared of,” he hears. He doesn't pause in his training, moving his body in time with his Typhlosion's Fire Blast. The heat passes by him and skirts the cave's water, steam rising in its wake. Out of the corner of his eye, Lyra's drawn her legs up to her chest; her ankles are crossed and she's frowning, but she's too far away to discern if it's because she's being sullen about the whole thing or if she's angry.

“I'm not scared.” Nothing scared him. Not Team Rocket, not being alone, not seeing his father again, and certainly not Ethan. _I think I'm in love with you_ murmurs in his head, just the same it'd been murmured in his ear beneath a sleepless sky, and without giving Typhlosion a moment to rest he orders another Fire Blast. This one veers, slamming into the water instead of against the cave wall, and he raises his arms to combat the blast of steam that follows. When he finally lets them drop, he sees Lyra's done the same. Typhlosion sinks back onto four paws, shaking droplets from his coat.

Silver sighs.

“There's nothing to be scared of.” He doesn't doubt the idiot he hasn't seen since the diner has a million scenarios in his head, every last one of them more 'terrifying' than the last. If the twenty-two voice messages he'd found on his phone over the past three days was any indication anyway. “I'm just waiting for him to get over it and stop acting like an idiot around me.”

“According to you, that's normal.” Flamethrower. Goosebumps spring up against the back of his neck from the sudden lack of warmth around him the moment the stream of fire fades, not from Lyra's tone. She sighs, and he finds it more irritating that it mirrors his exactly than being disappointed at her questions being deflected. 

-

“What makes you think,” he asks loudly, feet planted firmly on either side of Ethan's head, “you're in love with me?”

The reaction – either from his sudden appearance or his question – is as hilarious as it is pathetic. Ethan jerks and slams his head into Silver's calf. Silver winces, but doesn't bend. He balls his hands in his jacket pocket, waiting for Ethan to stop looking like a Stantler caught in headlights.

 

And then, like the unstoppable force he is, Ethan begins and only stops when he's out of breath. “I can't stop thinking about you. Like, worrying about you and wondering how you're doing and if you think about me too, and sometimes it's at night – okay, a lot of the time it's at night, and I can't sleep because of it.” The rest of his breath goes out like a balloon, and Silver notes it's just like the diner. Sudden pressure, sudden release.

He kneels down, then sits back; he keeps his feet plant beside Ethan's head though, and leans his arms on his knees. He's just close enough that if Ethan looks back at him – which he does, predictably – he can feel the other teen's bangs on his finger's edge.

“It's just a hunch,” Ethan finishes, with _that was so lame_ written all over his face. Silver studies him then tucks his hands against his thighs and sighs.

“And what do you want me to do about it?”

“I don't think there's anything you _can_ do.” Ethan looks like he'd rather be anywhere but confessing his feelings for the second time; he's red faced and confused, and Silver sniffs while he waits for an answer that'll satisfy him. “I mean, I wasn't expecting you to like, kiss me and say you felt the same way, but I didn't expect you to... run off either...”

“I accept the fact you like me,” Silver replies. He holds up his hand before Ethan can correct him and scowls down at him; he's not really feeling it. “But nothing's changed.

“So,” he turns his attention past Ethan's feet, clenching and unclenching his hands, “stop avoiding me, idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ewwwugh super unsatisfying but that's literally all the conclusion i'm getting to bye


End file.
